Wish for Me
by SilverUmbra
Summary: "When Darkrai says his name, he feels something in his mind stir- broken, but there. He takes his hand, and holds on." Jirachi struggles with a case of amnesia while Darkrai fights to put his past back together. Jirachi x Darkrai
1. Whistles

Title: Wish for Me

Genre: Angst/Romance

Pairing: Darkrai x Jirachi

Warnings: It's slash, BL, malexmale, but nothing graphic, just fluff and the like. But hey, don't like it, don't read it.

Author's Note: Well, my friend asked me to do this pairing, so, well, I thought I'd give it a try. It'll have around eight chapters, but each chapter'll be around 1000 words long. Relatively short, but that's the idea. Well, hope you guys like it. This is about wishing, so I'd love to hear about the stuff you guys wish on, eh? Awesome. As usual, R&R would be awesome!

On with the fic!

**Wish for Me**

It's like trying to find constellations in a cloudy, murky sky.

Jirachi. _Jirachi_, he repeats again and again. He mouths the name to himself, lets it roll off of his tongue, grasps blindly for the memories that once came with it. The name that once described who he was, every vowel and consonant and specific pronunciation a chapter in his life forgotten.

His name means nothing to him.

His name isn't even his anymore.

A feeling curls deep in his stomach, a monster of barbs and hooks clawing at sickly butterflies of a ruined intuition, a raging storm of fear and uncertainty and pain raging out in a sea of darkness and terror. Bile is creeping up his throat, and he clenches his teeth, swallows so thickly it hurts, curls his small, stubby white legs closer to his chest, and buries his face into his knees.

Something in him hurts, a long, slow throbbing like the limp of a sick beast.

It's what it feels like to be lost.

"He needs more time!"

That's Darkrai, legendary of nightmares, master of the shadows, tall and dark, his presence like a smear of absence against the bright white marble of the Judgement Room's doming walls. His figure is rigid, his clenched fists and glowering electric blue eye like a shard of neon sky the only indication of his contained fury.

Darkrai. It's the only name that feels like the wind brushing against his skin, the sun glinting in his eyes, the smell of fresh rain and the green of waving ferns. Where everything else in his mind is shattered- wisps of muscle memory and instinct, Darkrai stays firm and familiar, the only connection to a life he can't remember.

Darkrai. Darkrai, he repeats silently, like a promise. The sick creature in his stomach is quelled a little longer.

"... a defense mechanism." Another legendary is saying. Uxie, he thinks. There are many, many legendaries in this room, and every single one of them radiates power and grace. Uxie is a lot like him, small, but with an aura of responsibility and knowledge. Like he could map the world, everything that ever was, even with his eyes permanently closed.

"... considering what they did to him..." The legendary of Knowledge continues, "... to forget those things..."

Darkrai is growling, a low, terrible rumble like the trembling of black clouds. "Damned humans." He hisses, "To go this far-!" He shakes his head, his voice strained. "Why _him_? Why did it have to be _him_!"

"As opposed to _who_, Darkrai?" Another sneers. He doesn't know this one's name, only that she's like an explosion of golden needles, prickling with bitter electricity. She's almost painful to look at. "There's no use for a legendary that can't do his job. He's dangerous now, not knowing his limits, how powerful he really is." Her black eyes narrow, and she huffs, "We would be better off if he had just died-"

"How _dare _you!" Darkrai all but snarls, cutting the great avian off and lunging at her with claws surrounded in black tendrils of energy. She jumps away quickly, albeit clumsily with her allowed space, just dodging the sharp black gashes that seem to imprint the very air before they fade away into nonexistence.

The Being of All merely watches.

He feels sick.

Every one of Darkrai's words are cold and dark, like the shadow in the long hallway, fleeting and frigid and vicious. "You _bitter_, _selfish_, hideously _evil _waste of space, I should _rip _your eyes out and _torment _you with your deepest fears!"

The electric one laughs almost hysterically, "You talk tough _now_, Darkrai." Mockery. "It's a shame you didn't use that bravado to save your little shooting star over here." Her eyes are thin and cruel, "You _failed_, Darkrai."

Darkrai is livid with anger, "At least he's still _alive_." Darkrai says softly, his words heavy with meaning, his intention to tear her apart clear in his visible plasma eye. She stiffens in surprise, needle-like feathers shuddering, before she juts her sword-like beak out and sends whirls and jagged branches of electricity over her spiked plumage. "Moltres is _dead_, Zapdos." Is that the bitter one's name? Zapdos? And who is Moltres? "He's not coming back, and you know why? Because you failed far worst than I did."

"_Shut up_." Zapdos' voice is quiet, like the moment before thunder claps. "You go too far, Darkrai."

"You did first." He retorts, "At least there's a chance now that I can help him, that I can save him. But you? You lost that chance. You lost that chance because you killed him, Zapdos!"

"_He was dangerous and out of control, Darkrai_!" She shrieks, bolts of lightening dropping from her feathers and scorching the floor. Her voice bounces along the marble surfaces again and again and again, delving deeper and deeper into his mind. "_You saw what he did to those cities, how many Pokemon he killed!_" She jerked her head towards him, desolate and curled into a submissive ball, "_You've seen what happens when a legendary forgets who they are_!"

Jirachi. _Jirachi_, he repeats, hands over his clenched eyes, fighting back tears.

_Idon'tsayitpleasedon'tpleasepleaseplease..._

_I don't want to know what I'm going to become._

"Please." He whispers. Darkrai turns suddenly, Zapdos forgotten, his fury evaporating like water under the summer sun. That feeling of familiarity washes over him, like he can almost recall something, anything in that gray haze that dominates all of the forgotten things in his dazed and ruined mind, like a neon blue light is so close, _so close_ to fighting that infinite fog.

"You're going to be alright." Darkrai murmured, stepping closer on those long legs like the stretches of shadows at dusk. He crouches down, offers him his hand, searches his face for any thread of memory. "Jirachi."

When Darkrai says his name, he feels something in his mind stir- broken, but there.

He takes his hand, and holds on.


	2. First Star

**wolfxcall**- Thanks, I'm trying to get down the first impressions of the legendaries. If you never knew them, what would be the first thing you'd see about their personality? That sort of thing, since Jirachi's an amnesiac. Thanks for the review! :D

**Kirai-Ninja**- Yeah, I flipped a coin to see which one of the legendary birds would go crazy. Moltres seemed like the best choice, fire and all. Yeah, it is a weird pairing, but I can see why my friend likes it. Heheh, MD2 Darkrai and Jirachi? I'd read something like that :D Thanks for the review!

**Alpha DragonWulf**- It is weird, isn't it? Especially with the temperament differences and the size differences. -shrugs- Well, I actually really like it, though, oddly enough. Thanks for the review! :D

**Saf Dawnheart**- Heheheh, everything is alluded to. You may see why Moltres went insane, just not yet :D Thanks for reviewing!

**GoldenRaptor**- Yay! I'm not dead! :D Thanks, it took me a while to figure out how the heck I was going to start this fic! Thanks for da review! :D

**Goldeneye**- Awesome! Senior year is gonna be great. It'll be cool to be at the top! :D Thanks for reviewing!

On with the fic!

The First Star

The world moves.

He's surrounded by a turmoil of faces he doesn't recognize, each one of them talking at the same time and radiating that star-explosion, plasma-ray, sun-spot aura of power and age that he lacks. Their sentences, strung together in candy-floss quips complicated and otherworldly to him clash in his ears, jumbling together and forming roadblocks that shut down his thinking. The voices are different, some low like the purr of the earth, others sweet like the smell of honeysuckle in the wind, others raspy and cold like ice-covered slate, and others still are echoing, hollow bits of sound rocketing out into space. The voices may be different, and the words may variate, but it comes down to the same little phrase that makes that thing in his stomach shudder and claw at the sides of his heart in a need for escape.

"Do you remember me?"

_I don't even remember myself_, he wants to say, wants to shout, even.

Jirachi. _Jirachi_.

One legendary in particular is like a bubble-gum bang, light pink and blue-eyed and brilliant with an ever present youth, yet deep down an ancient wisdom. He nudges past the others, comes to hover in front of him, and he stares. The bright one tilts his head to the side, sea-green eyes searching just like sapphire-sharded eyes had moments before, tapered tall coming up to tap his chin in thought.

"You don't remember us..." The ancient, young one says, more to himself than to him. "How could you, when you've forgotten your own name?"

"_Mew_!" Another protests.

_Jirachi_, he repeats weakly, uncertainly.

"It's the truth." Mew replies, shrugging his shoulders, circling around him, placing his paws on his shoulders. "Jirachi." The legendary of youth tries to pull out his memories with that simple word, but he doesn't feel anything, not even that stirring in a dark corner of his consciousness. He wishes that Darkrai was here to say his name again, but then he reprimands himself because he knows that's the wrong thing to think.

Mew shakes his head, looking disappointed and a little ill, "Dude, buddy..." Mew looks at him with those eyes that reflect the sparkling green of youth, yet the deep blue of age, and he feels like he's being looked at in more than one way, like Mew sees him as one thing slowly morphing into another. He feels like a subject under a microscope, being prodded and dissected, but then he shakes that thought away because it's too close, too close and he feels like he's going to be sick.

So Mew hugs him, just a small embrace, with his arms around his shoulders and his face buried into his neck, his left ear flicking at the scraps of light blue paper attached to the three points of his form. His body reacts in such a way that he knows he should remember this, but he doesn't know why.

He feels like he shouldn't be doing this, either.

But the ever present question of _why_, _why _eludes him.

"Need to find yourself, dude." Mew says, and his voice sounds exhausted, muffled against his throat, "Couldn't stand to lose anyone else." Mew shakes his head, pulls away, smiles, but it's weak, like someone's just been taking things from him again and again, and he's close to acquiescing to their demands. Like soon Mew won't even care that he's been robbed.

He knows that Mew will keep smiling, even when that does happen. He simply and typically doesn't know why.

"You don't remember us." Mew says again, and he looks so hurt and sad, like he's denying every adventure they probably had in past. Almost like he's taken Mew's favorite book and ripped out all of the pages and left him with just the empty shell of the cover. And Mew's still running after the chapters lost in the wind, even when they're out of sight.

Jirachi wonders if they were good friends, if he and Mew used to talk late at night about things stupid and silly, or played sports or whatever friends do. Something in his gut tells him they were. He wishes that his gut would remind his mind all of the things he's supposed to remember.

That little broken thing in him twitches and weeps.

"Jirachi? What's going on?"

_Darkrai_.

He turns his head with more energy than he knew he had, his ache momentarily soothed, his internal struggle relieved, if just for a moment. For a moment he forgets that he can't remember. For a moment something warm blooms in his stomach and heats that cold, broken little thing in his chest.

For a moment he feels like _himself_.

"You alright? Mew's not giving you a hard time, is he?" The legendary of nightmares inquires, while eying the pink feline with suspicion. Mew simply rolls his contradicting eyes, but makes no noisy protest. This must be unusual - his gut tells him so- for Darkrai looks vaguely surprised, and he continues, "Arceus says I'm in charge of getting his memory back, so back off. I don't want you screwing with his psyche, _Mew_." The growl in Darkrai's voice is comforting, but he doesn't know why.

Mew doesn't take the bait. Instead, Mew takes his hands in his, leans in, looks deep into his eyes like he's looking for the friend he lost in them.

"You don't remember us," he murmurs softly, smiling, "But you remember him."

His eyes widen.

"I can tell." Mew says truthfully, voice barely a whisper,"Because I see a little bit of the old Jirachi I knew light up in your eyes when he says your name." Mew swallows, and his eyes are unusually bright and shiny, and his voice wavers a little when he continues, "Don't lose him, Jirachi. He's the only thing you've got, now." He releases his grip and moves away, shaking his head and shoving his smile back on his face, pushing the mask back over, "We all need our wishes back."

Darkrai is glowering, and he can't figure out why. The legendary of shadows comes to his side and they start down the long hall, leaving Mew smiling with his broken smile in that dome room with the other broken, unfamiliar faces. It feels like he's done this a million times before, float down the vast, narrow, white, black and gold passageway to the outside, with Darkrai at his side.

"... doesn't know anything. I can't believe he's the second oldest legendary." Darkrai is saying, speaking, just to fill the space. Darkrai speaks a lot, now. He can faintly remember a moment in time when Darkrai was rambling to him like he was talking to a corpse all panicky voiced and fragmented sentences and he remembers waking up not knowing who he was or any one else. He's lucky, he knows, he doesn't like to think about waking up and not knowing who Darkrai is. The idea brings something bitter and awful climbing up his throat. He swallows.

"... can't figure out what this group of humans is doing... don't have to worry about that... the others are planning on finding out. The strongest... Rayquaza, Kyogre and Groudon are even calling a truce... working together. Regigigas is going to wake... protect this place... Moltres... can't believe it..." They're outside now, and the sun has disappeared completely, leaving this part of the world in darkness, the sweetness of the breeze holding a trace of honey suckle and other vegetation. It's completely quiet for a moment, as Darkrai looks around him, and he simply looks up at Darkrai, the only person in his tiny world.

"I. I'm glad you're alive. Jirachi."

He stares at Darkrai, who looks irritated and a little embarrassed, like he's been caught doing something he isn't supposed to. Like he expects to be punished for acting slightly out of character. He doesn't know what to say to that, so he stares, and Darkrai coughs a little into his claw, turns his head up to the sky.

"Look, it's the first star." Darkrai says quickly, pointing to the single speck of light in the black sky, the only light that he can see. He faintly wonders why the sky looks so empty, and his stomach tells him something is missing. He doesn't remember what. "Make a wish, Jirachi."

He glances up, and searches the abandoned heavens for the answer.


	3. Sunrise

AN: This was going to be one loooong chapter, but I decided it would be better split in two. Eh, long update time, 'cuz I got caught up in the AWESOMEST show ever! What time is it? ADVENTURE TIME! :D I totally watch that show unironically. Uh, so yeah. Here we go.

**Kirai- Ninja**- Yeah, you know everything's going sour when Kyogre, Rayquaza and Groudon decide to be temporary buddies. Hahaha, thanks for the review, dude! :D

On with the fic!

* * *

Wish for Me

It's early morning, the glow of the sun kissing the horizon when Darkrai whisks him far from the Hall of Origin with little explanation, passing over lonely forests and stretches of beautiful, yet soulless lakes. The world blurs past, and he simply clutches to his shadowy anchor, tossed about by the waves of places that beg for him to remember. Darkrai is stoically silent, and he knows by the tension in Darkrai's shoulders and the dangerous glint in his sharp, brilliant blue eye that the legendary of nightmares is nervous.

He knows better than to ask why, even if the reason eludes him.

It's when they've crossed the ocean and brushed upon the sandy shores of a beautiful, yet eerily silent island that Darkrai seems to relax. Despite Darkrai's current comfort, he feels more nervous than before, like splashes of saltwater and sea foam are rolling about in his stomach, threatening to take him down into oblivion.

He shouldn't be here.

He huddles as close to Darkrai as he dares, and Darkrai must be able to read him as well as he can read Darkrai, memory as shredded as it is, because his black hand brushes his shoulder just a moment. The action, though fleeting and barely noticeable calms him drastically, and he finds his eyes flutter shut at the contact.

"Cresselia's island." Darkrai explains, even when it doesn't explain anything.

_Cresselia. _He doesn't see a face or hear a voice in memory of the name, but feels a mess on emotions rise in his stomach. None of them are pleasant. He looks down at his hands, clasped in front of his chest, only looks up again when Darkrai continues,

"Full Moon Island," Darkrai says, "Reminds me of before." Darkrai's neon blue, sky-explosion, frozen-fire eye clouds over in a gaze what must be remembrance, and it's fond in a way that is like when Darkrai looks at him when he thinks he isn't paying attention. This captures his attention so tightly that he doesn't realize that Darkrai's still talking, talking like he's trying to stimulate the world with just words.

"... my island's out of commission. Damn humans razed it down to chase me out." Darkrai shrugs in that way that silently says 'well, what can you do?' and the shadowy legendary doesn't look too upset by the fact.

He, however, is horrified, and he knows he looks so, all wide blue eyes threatening to spill over even if he doesn't know exactly why. Darkrai is understandably startled, and the legendary of shadows has his arms around him in a hug, blabbering randomly strung together sentences that make no sense but still manage to calm him, "Oh- man, it's no big deal, I mean-" He's gesturing wildly with one claw, "It was just a patch of land in the middle of the ocean. Never had anything- oh, come _on_."

Darkrai sounds exasperated and flustered and he doesn't blame him, because he doesn't even know why he's so upset in the first place. Darkrai's island was a place he can't even remember the smell of, the atmosphere, the taste of the wind. The fact that he can't remember it makes him feel even worst and that thing creeping and crawling in his stomach snickers at the irony.

He wants to nuzzle into Darkrai's neck, but his stomach tells him wearily that that's the worst possible thing to consider at the moment. So he pushes away from Darkrai, shakes his head to clear the fuzzy, unfounded thoughts far too large for his cripple memory to handle and wipes his idiotic tears away.

_Small thoughts_, he thinks, _small thoughts._

"You alright?" Darkrai asks, and the phantom is watching him expectantly when he can bear to look at him. "Jirachi?"

He only shakes his head and begs Darkrai to forget it with his eyes. He shouldn't think, because it's not right and there's an obstacle anyway and- he just shouldn't _think_.

Darkrai nods slowly in understanding and places his claw on his shoulder, "Alright." His hold lingers, just a moment, and Darkrai glances at the treeline, his eyes suddenly sharp and wary. Darkrai's visible eye is narrowed, and he looks to see what the shadow is contemplating with such a strange look in his stare.

Something is approaching, and Darkrai steps in front of him, a wall of protectiveness and authority, and he feels a sharp bite of almost annoyance, like he's used to this happening, and used to being irritated by it. He hovers high enough to peer over the tendrils of black that travel from Darkrai's shoulders, see's something golden and brilliant and beautiful coming their way, and he knows what it is before he can make it out, even if he doesn't know it really.

She's beautiful, like the moon laced with diamonds and pink ribbon. Her presence is like an oasis, like the moon in the smothering blanket of night, peace in a time of war, serenity in a moment of chaos, goodness in even the most volatile of days. Her pure nature collides with Darkrai's, her light to his darkness, her beauty to his rugged handsomeness, her feminism to his masculinity, her peace to his war. They are opposites that could fit into something melodious and connected, true and whole.

He grapples with the feeling in his stomach that tastes like bile and acid.

"Cresselia." Darkrai grunts.

Cresselia ignores his greeting. Her magenta eyes echo years of moonlit seas and ponds, travel past Darkrai's shoulder, and she locks stares with him. "Jirachi." There's a small fracture in her gaze that is enough to turn it into a glare, and he realizes that she's staring at him with something akin to dislike and disgust.

He realizes that he's used to this.

Cresselia's eyes narrow only a fraction, and she turns her attention back to Darkrai, "I understand that Arceus gifted you the duty to recover his memory- an honorable task." Her business-like tone is clipped and bordering on disinterested, purely polite. He can tell it bothers Darkrai, because the legendary of shadows squares up his shoulders and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

"Cut it out, Cresselia." He growls, "I don't know what your problem has been-"

"My _problem_?" Cresselia's beautiful yet hollow eyes flare up with rage, "If you've been too busy with your head in the clouds, you might have realized that it's the end of our world."

"Cre-"

"My _problem _is that the order of the gods is being tested by mere humans, that they now have the power to truly ruin the divine. My _problem _is that, even with the threat of murder by their hands my _mate _is too busy trying to restore the impossible. My _problem _is that you barely speak to me, yet seem to suddenly become quite the conversationalist when it comes to _him_. My _problem _is that you've brought him to my island with the understanding that he could potentially kill us both at any time and think nothing of it-!"

"He's Jirachi, Cresselia!" Darkrai exclaims, appalled by her open display of rage.

"Not anymore." She hisses, "Not anymore."

Darkrai is surprisingly rage-less, and his eye is darkened with disappointment, "He's more like himself than you are." The shadow turns his back to her, taking Jirachi's hand, and he feels something flicker in his stomach like the one time Darkrai lit a candle and led him through a dark forest and... the memory is gone. He looks up at Darkrai, startled and warm faced.

"I can't be in two places at once, Cresselia." Darkrai murmurs.

"Of course not." She mocks, her voice bitter, "It has always been him before me, hasn't it?" The question is rhetorical, and the brilliant beauty is staring at him with something fractured and broken and volatile in her eyes that makes shame splash in his stomach like he's been caught stealing from her.

Yet he has no idea what exactly he's taken.

"I want you both gone by noon." She says curtly, and finally she turns away from them. He suddenly feels her pain, deep and aching in his chest like a wounded bird still trying for the skies. He realizes that he pities her. "Goodbye, Darkrai. I hope that you don't regret this."

Darkrai doesn't even turn to acknowledge her, "I won't."

And Jirachi has no idea how he can be so certain.


End file.
